I feel I should at least try to do some sort of Year End Post. Mark the passing of another wall calendar in some sort of appropriately retrospective manner. I promised there wouldn’t be any mawkish retrospective posts, though, so I’ve made a pretty sturdy rod for my own back there.
What’s left? As others have noted, the posts that get the hit-counter whirring are the ones ragging on some sort of deficient aspect of Japan or the Japanese, so let’s talk about the election!
Because here’s the thing about having kids – note the plural – it destroys your free time. I mean absolutely decimates it; rips it limb from bleeding limb, mashes its skull into a pulpy red mess and takes a shit on what’s left of its still twitching, oozing corpse. It’s no coincidence that people such as Corrine and Mr Salaryman have dropped almost completely off the radar after their second children arrived. The only reason I’m managing any sort of posting at all is because I have a long commute to a job which is demonstrably less taxing (in all senses). I definitely earn my money in the classroom, but outside of it the actual work comes in fits and starts. And it’s noticeable to me, and the few of you who comprise my regular readership as well, no doubt, that the quality of what I have produced in the last few months has been pretty variable. To put it charitably.
Raising children is also, on occasion, a little bit difficult. You may have heard other parents mention this. There are frequent, wonderful highs but just as frequent, screaming lows. In the light of all that, why would I want to spend what little time I have for my own devices on something I know is just going to piss me off?
So basically anything which isn’t immediately, obviously rewarding has been expunged from my schedule more ruthlessly than a mob enforcer rubbing out snitches. Just gone, deleted. Sentiment can play no part in the enjoyment of the parent. We shall Have Fun. We shall Relax.
This inevitable recreational Darwinism has revealed that what I really like doing, when all’s said and done, is reading and writing (about reading, and other stuff). The first of those comes as no surprise to me whatsoever. The second actually does.
I hate New Year Resolutions. If it meant that much to you then you’d have started doing it when you thought about it, not waited for some arbitrary date in the future. But part of the reason I write this blog is to help get my thoughts in some sort of order. It strikes me as I write this (well, as I wrote that last paragraph) that I should put my money where my mouth is with the writing thing. Hmmm…
I know. Every arsehole with a blog fancies themselves as a real writer and has a book to push. Except you, obviously. You’re not an arsehole. And I genuinely wish you every success with your various projects. I’m just trying, in my own clumsy way, to apologise for the slightly clichéd nature of what I’m about to say. ‘Cos I’m going to write a book this year. Of some sort, and of reasonable length.
Once it’s written I don’t know what’ll happen. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but by putting this ambition out there in public hopefully it’ll be more likely that I’ll actually make it to the riverbank. I shall, of course, try to keep this place ticking over because it turns out that blogging survived the fun cull as well. Who’da thunk it? I’ll also try to avoid tedious updates on which chapter I’ve just finished. It’ll happen when it happens, but feel free to ask anyway. And rest assured I'll get back to ragging on Japan all too soon.
Lang may yer lum reek.